


The Weight of the World

by TheGirlWhoRemembers



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: A Stupidly Noble One Anyway, Actually Mac's Whole Life is Pretty Complicated and Tragic, Angst, Dad Jack, Episode Tag, F/M, Family, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, Mac and Jack Bromance, Mac is a Stupid Genius, Mac's Love Life is Complicated, Mac's Love Life is Tragic, Tag to 3.08 Revenge + Catacombs + Le Fantome, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-08-25 05:11:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16654864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGirlWhoRemembers/pseuds/TheGirlWhoRemembers
Summary: Two conversations between Mac and Jack, one before the charity ball, and one after Paris.Episode tag to 3.08, Revenge + Catacombs + Le Fantome.





	The Weight of the World

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously, lots of spoilers for 3.08, Revenge + Catacombs + Le Fantome.

**MACGYVER’S RESIDENCE**

**LA**

* * *

Jack opened Mac’s front door and walked in, a grin on his face. He waved to Bozer, who was in the kitchen, wearing a Kiss the Cook apron and making what smelled like his seriously amazing fish tacos. He also appeared to be Skyping with Leanna, who was on-route to Shanghai for a mission.

(There was a tablet mounted to some kind of holder attached to the kitchen counter. The holder looked like Mac’s handiwork, and Bozer was talking animatedly at the tablet.)

Bozer grinned back at Jack, and gestured with his spatula towards Mac’s bedroom as he explained the perfect technique for frying fish to Leanna.

‘…now, I know it sounds crazy, but you gotta use flat beer for the batter…’

Jack shot Mac’s BFF a thumbs-up, then knocked on Mac’s bedroom door, wondering if he was going to find his partner dreaming about lecturing unicorns again.

(That had been weird, even by Mac’s standards.)

There was no answer, so Jack opened the door, and found his very morose partner sitting at his desk, his laptop open in front of him. Mac was staring at Nasha’s necklace, which he was holding up in front of his eyes, the stone spinning slowly.

Jack sighed internally, already knowing what had happened, but forced himself to speak casually, playing dumb.

‘Why the long face, brother?’

Mac’s voice was just as flat as the beer Bozer had sitting out in the kitchen for the fish batter.

‘I broke up with Nasha.’

Jack made a sympathetic, sorry noise, sitting down on Mac’s desk after checking there was nothing there he might accidentally crush or impale his butt on.

‘I’m sorry, man.’

Mac sighed, still staring at her necklace. Up close, Jack could tell he’d been crying. His eyes were a little red, and there were still some tears pooled in there. Mac wiped his eyes on his sleeve, resolutely put down the necklace and turned to Jack.

‘It…it was the best thing for her. She’s safer now, and…’ He was smart enough to know that because he still cared (so, so much), his enemies might still go after her to get to him, but with time and distance, the risk would fade. Even if he would always care. Even if she would always have a little place in his heart. ‘…she won’t have to live with a target on her back because of me.’

Jack reached out and clasped his partner’s shoulder, simply nodding, his eyes full of understanding.

Nasha was a strong woman. She had plenty of steel in her.

But she was also a civilian from the other side of the world, with a life there that she wasn’t ready to give up for Mac.

(Given how she spoke of her students, and of teaching, and of her home, no matter how impoverished and lacking it might seem to them, Jack wasn’t sure, privately, if she’d ever have been willing to give it up for good, even for Mac.)

(He was pretty sure that her devotion to her calling and love for her home was part of the reason why Mac had been attracted to her. Unfortunately, they were also huge obstacles to their relationship.)

(Though, Jack supposed, at the time, they wouldn’t have been. Quite the opposite, in fact.)

(A Nigerian schoolteacher and the American who’d moved to her isolated little village to start a new, simpler life _worked_.)

(A Nigerian schoolteacher from an isolated little village and a US covert operative…not so much.)

A civilian from the other side of the world (too far away for Mac to protect effectively) who hadn’t _really_ known what she was walking in to (hadn’t known the risks, the dangers, the sacrifices and hardships), because there’d been no need for it, because that wasn’t who Mac was anymore…

Jack understood.

And Angus MacGyver was one of the very best of men.

The kind who would protect the ones he loved with absolutely everything he had, at absolutely any cost.

Sweat. Tears. Blood.

His own life.

His own happiness.

So Jack just squeezed Mac’s shoulder again, and spoke, voice full of meaning, of emotion, of his own pain and memories and sacrifices.

‘Sometimes, if you love someone, you gotta let them go.’

He swallowed the lump in his throat, as Mac nodded, glancing at Nasha’s necklace on his desk.

Then, he picked up the simple piece of jewellery and placed it almost reverently in his desk drawer, stroking his thumb over the pendent in a way that really looked like a goodbye.

Mac wiped away the last few stubborn tears, and then got up.

‘What did Boze make for dinner?’

‘Fish tacos. He wanted to do Mexican, was gonna do quesadillas, but I talked him out of it.’ Mac raised an eyebrow. Jack loved Bozer’s quesadillas. Then again, Jack loved food in general. The Texan grinned a little sheepishly. ‘You know those things are heavy on beans, and since I gotta fly in four hours…’

Mac gave a little smile, then nudged Jack with his elbow.

‘Are you _sure_ you don’t want me to go with you to Brazil? Make sure you don’t accidentally give yourself a rash by rolling around in plants in the rainforest you don’t recognize?’

Jack waved a hand.

‘Nah, brother, I got this!’ He smirked. ‘That smuggling ring won’t know what hit ‘em!’ He then jogged Mac back with his elbow. ‘I can handle myself without you, you know! I was doing it when you were still learning…’ He was going to say learning to read, but he was pretty sure Mac could read when he was, like, two, so… ‘…when you were still learning how to do algebra.’ His expression grew more serious. ‘Besides, you don’t wanna miss that charity ball.’

Mac had bought out half a table to honour Alfred Pena. It meant a lot to him, Jack knew that.

They all did, which was why Matty hadn’t given him orders for Brazil.

Mac smiled.

‘Thanks, Jack.’

* * *

Four days later, Jack, freshly returned from Brazil, straight after an unusually quick debrief with Matty, walked into Mac’s house again, whistling and holding a six-pack of the blonde’s favourite beer. He stashed it in the fridge, greeting Bozer and Riley (the former was teaching the latter to make his amazing quesadillas). Riley spoke, gesturing with her head out to the deck, concern in her eyes.

‘He’s out there.’

Mac hadn’t been quite right ever since Paris.

Jack didn’t blame him.

The bombmaker he’d been chasing for years, the one that Mac was _obsessed_ with had revealed that _that_ bomb was meant for Mac (that Alfred Pena, then a father-to-be, Annabelle’s dad, who’d been like a father to Mac in many ways, had died _because of him_ , in Mac’s mind).

He’d claimed that he’d left a nasty exploding surprise for Mac somewhere out there.

And then he’d been murdered by _his own daughter,_ who’d then cleared out, refusing to help Mac disarm a bomb and save thousands of innocent lives.

(Especially when Mac had had some kind of affinity with her, according to Riley. Had thought that they understood each other, had something deeply in common, at least when they’d set out.)

The blonde was standing out on the deck, leaning against the railing, and looking out with a thousand-yard-stare.

Jack reached out and clapped him on the shoulder in greeting, before reaching out and hugging the younger man.

‘Heard you got more stories than me…’ Mac managed a weak snort at that, but no snappy retort. Oh, this wasn’t good, Jack thought. Not good at all. Still, he continued, forcing a grin onto his face. ‘Why don’t you and me head out for drinks after dinner? You know, share some beer, share some stories, maybe find a rebound for you…’

‘Not interested, Jack.’

The older man raised his hands.

‘Hey, there ain’t nothing wrong with a rebound, as long as you’re honest and nobody’s got any expectations except some fun. Of course, sometimes, they start growing strings, and that’s okay too, really, just as long as there’s plenty of communication-‘

Mac just shook his head, cutting him off.

‘No, Jack, you don’t get it.’ He turned to face the older man, something very pained but very resolute, stubborn (stubbornly noble) in his eyes. ‘I’m _not_ interested, and won’t _ever_ be.’

He said that more like _can’t_ ever be.

Which in his mind, was true.

It wasn’t just about not putting a woman in danger anymore.

It wasn’t just about not potentially leaving a grieving widow and a child who’d never know him behind anymore.

It was about keeping the world safe from that darkness he knew he had inside him.

The darkness that had threatened to escape when Murdoc took Nasha.

( _‘…or the last one I’m going to break is putting you into the ground.’_ )

The darkness he’d seen in Eileen, the darkness that had consumed her, which he _knew_ he had too.

(A father consumed by a cause, an obsession…a dead mother…and a half-orphan, a full one for all intents and purposes, left behind with a chip in their shoulder and simmering resentment towards their sire…)

_Without trying to sound arrogant, I’m one of the best EOD techs in the world._

_I know how to disarm bombs._

_Which also means I know how to make them._

_I pushed the best bombmaker the world has ever seen to improve himself._

_If I ever crossed over to the dark side…_

_What could I do?_

A chorus of voices in his head (Jack, Bozer, Riley, Matty, Charlie, Nasha, his grandfather…the list went on) started protesting.

All saying things along the lines of, _you would never turn to the dark side._

Unfortunately, he wasn’t quite so sure.

Once upon a time, The Ghost had been an idealistic young soldier, fighting for a cause.

(More violently than Mac, of course, but still…)

Then he accidentally (albeit irresponsibly) killed the woman he loved.

(Mac knew he had it in him to cause accidents like that. They laughed about it now, but he _had_ blown up Mission City High’s football stadium, just because he’d gotten so lost in and obsessed with the _science_ …honestly, someone – including Bozer – could have died.)

And he had become a monster, killing people (innocent people, _children_ ) for money and sport.

Besides, they said the road to hell was paved with good intentions.

(If he had killed Murdoc…maybe there’d have been good intentions in there. Protecting Nasha and the rest of his loved ones. Saving all the people Murdoc might kill in future. Protecting Cassian, in a way, perhaps. Maybe.)

(But he knew, he wouldn’t have been acting out of those good intentions, not truly.)

(That would have been the first step to hell. From that day onwards, he’d have been consumed by that darkness.)

Mac loved many people.

And Jack, Bozer, Riley and Matty were his family.

He loved them as much, albeit in a different way, as he would the hypothetical future Mrs MacGyver, that he was sure of.

He could not stop loving them, couldn’t pull away, like a voice (an insidious one) in his head suggested he should.

(That way lay madness. Obsession. Darkness.)

(The conversation he had with Matty, the extra care and attention and food Bozer had showered him with since Paris, Riley’s new project for him – better video game controllers – and the conversation that Jack was trying to have with him now all showed that.)

(They were holding him back from getting lost down the rabbit hole.)

(Sometimes, they were the only thing stopping him.)

(At the same time, if anything should happen to them…)

(The abyss called.)

But he could minimize harm.

Minimize risk.

There would be no future Mrs MacGyver.

He could make sure of that.

He _would_ make sure of that.

Jack sighed internally as the thousand-yard-stare took over Mac’s baby blues again.

On one hand, he got it.

(He and Diane both still felt that spark between them. He might always carry a torch for her.)

(But even if she knew the truth about the Phoenix, even if she was Riley’s mom…she was still a civilian.)

(Diane had already suffered enough because of men in her life.)

(He didn’t want to put her through more, so had never really pursued that second chance dangled in front of him.)

And he’d seen that horrified, disturbed, _not quite right,_ look in Mac’s eyes after he’d had to impersonate Murdoc, seen something _haunted_ in him when he’d gotten back from that prison the first time.

He’d been there when Murdoc had threatened Nasha one last time, he’d seen Mac in the aftermath.

(He hadn’t asked. Mac hadn’t shared. But Jack had a good inkling what had happened, both times.)

(He didn’t blame Mac in the slightest. Honestly, if Jack had been in his position, and it was the woman he loved who’d been kidnapped…Murdoc might well be six feet under instead of in a concrete box.)

(Mac might look like one of those Hollywood golden boys, one of those larger-than-life and utterly unrealistic heroes who were absolutely nothing but good, with not even a smidgen of grey, let alone anything dark, in them.)

(He was the closest to one that Jack had ever seen, but he was definitely human.)

(Nothing wrong with that.)

On the other hand…

Jack prayed to a God he wasn’t always sure he believed in, to the universe or to whoever or whatever was out there, that Angus MacGyver would get that fairytale ending he refused to seek out, against all odds.

If there was any justice in the world, any at all, he would.

Nobody, absolutely nobody, deserved it more than their boy.

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope you guys like that. I think some of the stuff in Mac’s head is a bit disjointed, but I also didn’t want to make it super-clear and logical. He’s kinda lost in his own head right now, so…
> 
> I think that Mac swearing off love is a logical and in-character thing to happen, all things considered (he’s ridiculously noble and self-sacrificing, after all). I think he sort-of did, actually, in his conversation with Riley at the start of the ep…
> 
> This was also born out of the fact that I missed Jack in this ep, even if the rest of the cast did a great job and they used the other characters very well. 
> 
> I don’t believe that Mac would actually go to the dark side, but I do believe that Mac is scared of his own darkness and dark side and that he would fear that he’d cross the line, if that makes sense. That is – I believe that he believes he’s at risk of being overtaken by the darkness within him, but I don’t think he actually is at risk. I tried to illustrate that using Jack’s point of view and the contrast between his thoughts and Mac’s thoughts. 
> 
> (For my full thoughts on 3.08, Revenge + Catacombs + Le Fantome, please seen the AN at the end of the latest chapter of _The Path Not Taken_.)


End file.
